


This Odd Diversity

by scouringsandstone



Category: Father Brown (2013)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Bickering, Drinking, Insults, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Repression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:48:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24113815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scouringsandstone/pseuds/scouringsandstone
Summary: There's an irony to it, he thinks, as he nurses his half-empty glass of scotch; a criminal being the one to undo him.
Relationships: Sid Carter/Inspector Sullivan
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	This Odd Diversity

The first time it happens, Sullivan isn't sure what to make of it. 

He is on his way down to the church cake sale, on the instruction of the Chief Superintendent, to thank Father Brown for his help in the McMurray case. 

He is already annoyed before he arrives, about having arrested the wrong man, and the imminent humiliation of being made to reward the Father for his interference. And as if that isn't bad enough, Father Brown's inability to stay away from Sullivan's cases would appear to be contagious. If the mechanic - Bakewell - is to be believed, then Sid has been getting rather more involved in his cases than even Father Brown has ever managed. 

"Inspector," Lady Felicia says with a glint in her eye as she sees him approach. "Bite of something sweet?" 

"Thank you, but I'm not staying," he tells her, dropping his gaze and tipping his hat, playing ignorant to any possible double entendre. "Just came to see the Father... In private."

As soon as he has taken Father Brown aside and presented him with his wretched commendation, Sullivan turns on his heel and makes his way up the path, towards the gate at the far-side of the churchyard. 

He can feel the anger building in his chest. His _deputy,_ indeed. Sullivan's superiors simply don't understand what it's like to be undermined every step of the way by this meddlesome priest and his group of accomplices. 

Sullivan stops at the top of the path, risking one last glance back down towards the church. 

It only adds to his annoyance when he sees the others gathered around Father Brown, admiring his certificate. Then he watches Sid lean across to one of the tables, and - with a wink and a smile at the girl manning the stall - snatch a slice of cake. 

That really is the final straw. Sullivan falters for a moment, before marching back towards the small group of parishioners gathered there. 

"Carter," he barks, startling all four of them. "A word, if I may."

Lady Felicia's eyes are back on Sullivan in an instant and Sullivan removes his hat, turning it over in his hands. 

Sid looks bemused, but takes a couple of steps towards him.

"What can I do for you, Inspector?" he asks around a mouthful of cake, spitting crumbs, and surely to God, no woman should ever have been charmed by this man in the first place. 

"Ah. Also in private." 

"Suit yourself," says Sid, wiping his fingers off on his trousers, before following Sullivan over to a quiet leafy spot off to the side of the church. 

When Sullivan had first arrived in Kembleford, his predecessor had warned him about Father Brown and his motley crew. Going by Valentine's description, Sullivan had imagined Sid as something of a Lothario, but upon meeting Sid for the first time, he had thought - rather unkindly - that he couldn't see what all the fuss was about. 

Sid isn't bad looking, but he's hardly Guy Madison. And quite apart from being a petty thief and a bit of a rogue, he has the most appalling manners. 

He is always eating, for one. Pilfering food, and chewing it with his mouth half open. His hands are filthy; nails untrimmed and black with engine oil. He seems to spend most of his evenings down The Red Lion, drinking and gambling, and getting caught up in the occasional fight. And then there is the fact that he _sniffs_ , loudly and incessantly, for no reason that Sullivan is able to discern. 

Really, there shouldn't be anything appealing about the man at all, yet women seem to fall at his feet. 

It isn't that Sullivan envies him all the attention he gets. Quite the opposite, in fact. Sullivan has long-since accepted where his own preferences lie, even if he refuses to act on them, and God knows he gets enough unwanted attention of his own from the single ladies of Kembleford. 

At his side, Sid comes to a stop. "Well?"

Sullivan looks him up and down, doing his best not to picture the scene Bakewell had described walking in on. 

"How is it," Sullivan begins, suddenly irrationally angry again, "that you seem to get yourself caught up in every case I have recently?"

"What?" 

"I thought Father Brown was bad, but _you,_ you have somehow managed to surpass him. Not only do you turn up and make a nuisance of yourself, now you've started having... _dalliances_ with the people involved."

Sid pulls a face. _"'Dalliances?'"_

"Does it happen so often that you've forgotten already?"

"Sorry, you've lost me. What is it I'm s'posed to have done?"

"Not _supposed_ to have done, Carter, _have_ done," Sullivan corrects. "At the races, in the public conveniences, in front of a _witness,_ no less."

"Ah," says Sid, and he at least has the decency to look sheepish. "That."

"Yes, that." Sullivan closes his eyes for a second, and takes a fortifying breath, as the image of Sid breathless against the tiles springs into his mind. "Really, Carter. A married woman? Have you no scruples?"

"Believe it or not, I don't make a habit of it."

"Which part?"

"Eh?"

"Which part don't you make a habit of? The affairs with married women or the lewd acts in public lavatories?"

Sid lets out an indignant huff of laughter and gives a little shake of his head. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"It was my investigation."

"There was no investigation at that point," says Sid. "It was just a bit of fun."

"Is that your idea of fun?"

"Wasn't hurting anyone."

"I ought to have you arrested."

"What for?"

"For outraging public decency!" 

Sullivan can feel his pulse throbbing in his neck, his temple. This isn't their usual teasing banter; this is heated. There is a sick, unsettled feeling growing in the pit of his stomach and he is beginning to regret coming back. 

"Hey, hey," Sid is saying, holding up his hands. " _She_ tried it on with _me._ "

"Oh, and I'm sure you fought to resist her advances."

"Well," Sid concedes, sniffing and pursing his lips, "you know me, Inspector. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Yes, unfortunately I know you only too well."

"Anyway, it never got that far. He only walked in on us kissing."

"Please," Sullivan interrupts, "spare me the lurid details." 

He can feel his jaw twitch as he imagines Sid pinned back against the wall, with that woman's hands in his hair.

Sid frowns, then something in his expression changes. He is looking at Sullivan intently. Curious, amused. "Never had you down as such a prude. City boy like you, I'd've thought you'd've walked in on all sorts of things in public lavs."

Sullivan feels his pulse quicken and a cold jolt of panic shoot through him.

"Yes, well..." he swallows. "Just see that it doesn't happen again, or I'll be the least of your concerns. You'll have half the angry husbands of Kembleford after you."

"Don't worry about me, Inspector," Sid says, stepping forward into Sullivan's space and sticking out his chest. "I know how to handle jealous men."

And at that, Sullivan nods, steps back, and walks unsteadily away. 

That night when Sullivan gets home to his empty cottage, he is still ruminating on it. On Sid's choice of words, and on his own shameful behaviour. 

He can see it all with an odd sense of clarity now: he doesn't envy Sid's success with women, he envies the women who get to touch Sid, to kiss him. 

And isn't that a turn up for the books? 

Of all the men Sullivan has managed to resist over the years, _this_ is the one who has finally gotten under his skin. A man of questionable morals who carries on with people in public toilets. 

There's an irony to it, he thinks, as he nurses his half-empty glass of scotch; a criminal being the one to undo him. 

And now it would seem that Sid has found him out. Seen something in the way Sullivan looks at him, or else recognised Sullivan's jealous outburst for exactly what it was. 

There is irony in that, too, isn't there? In Sid working out Sullivan's motives before he - a detective - was able to. Sullivan has had the better part of a year to make sense of his feelings towards Sid. How has he failed to see it until now?

He drains his glass and stands up. The unsettled feeling in his stomach hasn't subsided and he decides to forgo supper in favour of a bath and an early night. 

In bed, he tries to quiet his thoughts with reading, but even the latest forensic journals aren't holding his interest. His eyes are unfocused with exhaustion and alcohol, so he closes them, allowing his mind wonder back to Sid. 

Why had Sid made a point of letting him know that he was onto him? Had it been a threat, designed to get Sullivan off his back? Does he plan to hold it over Sullivan whenever he needs leverage?

No. Sid Carter is many things, but Sullivan can't believe that of him.

Had Sid just been teasing him, then? Provoking him? Every interaction he's had with Sid since his arrival there has always been confrontational. Perhaps Sid didn't mean anything by it at all...

Sullivan closes his eyes, tries to focus on his breathing.

There is another possibility, of course. The possibility that Sid has the same sort of inclinations he does. All this teasing, this tension between them... Could it have been Sid's attempt at flirtation all along?

It never occurred to him that Sid might be interested in men. Sullivan has known men, men with his sort of tendencies, who have married for the sake of keeping up appearances and quelling rumours, but Sid isn't like that. Sid is forever chasing after women, and he has had far too many public affairs for his interest not to be genuine. 

Sullivan rolls over, drawing the eiderdown up around him.

What if Sid doesn't have a preference? What if he likes both men and women? There must be men like that, too...

Sullivan sinks deeper into the pillow. He can feel himself drifting off, but it is a fitful, restless sleep, and soon he finds himself dreaming about being back there, back at the races that day. 

He is walking downhill, along the empty track, away from the others, towards the small cluster of buildings at the bottom. Lady Felicia is calling out to him, asking where he's going, but he doesn't reply. He just presses on, moving further and further from the crowd until he reaches the entrance to one of the outbuildings. 

It isn't the same one that was there that day. The design is different, the layout is wrong, but in his dream, Sullivan knows what this building is. 

He steps inside anyway. As soon as his foot crosses the threshold, he can hear it. Echoing around the tiled walls, reverberating off the low ceiling: the unmistakable sound of a man moaning. Still, Sullivan keeps going. The moans grow louder with every step, until he finds himself standing outside the cubicle from which the sounds are coming. 

The door is unlocked, slightly ajar, but he can't see inside. So he reaches out and pushes it open, wider and wider, until he reveals a man with his back to him.

The man turns around and it's Sid. Of course it's Sid. 

There is no woman with him this time. He is alone - in a state of semi-undress, debauched, touching himself - but he doesn't panic at the intrusion, only cocks his head, an easy smile spreading across his face. 

_"Inspector,"_ he says, taunting Sullivan, teasing him, even now. 

Sullivan swallows. 

Sid motions for Sullivan to enter, and Sullivan can't help himself. He pushes his way inside, letting Sid close the door behind them. 

The sense of relief when Sid's arms close around him is overwhelming. Sid pulls him in, bringing their bodies together, allowing Sullivan to press him up against the wall.

 _"Please,"_ Sullivan says, burying his face in Sid's shoulder.

He isn't sure what he's pleading for, but Sid seems to have a pretty good idea. He kisses Sullivan's jaw, slides one hand down to the front of Sullivan's trousers, and grips him through the fabric of his suit.

Sullivan inhales sharply. 

"Don't worry, Inspector," Sid says, breath hot against Sullivan's ear. "I know how to handle jealous men." 

And Sullivan wakes with a start, tangled in the bedclothes. 

**Author's Note:**

> 'This odd diversity of misery and joy' is a line from Noel Coward's Mad About the Boy, which, apart from being about a film star, works pretty well for these two.


End file.
